


Season 12 ficlet

by Nisaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt! Sam, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, M/M, Protective Dean, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Selfhating Dean, ignores marry, post season 12, season12 is giving me so many feels and it's not even aired yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 03:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7996159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki/pseuds/Nisaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Dean can't rest till all of them are dead<i></i></i>
</p><p>A short drabble to let out my feelings, because the sneaks we got are killing me.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Season 12 ficlet

He would've loved to tear her apart with his bare hands, feel her blood dripping down his fingers as he buries them in her dead flesh. But the bullet he put between her eyes would have to suffice, he doesn't have the time to enjoy her death and inflict suffering.

Sammy is still trapped here in this wretched building; hurting.

Dean couldn't have  run faster, he might have screamed but he's not sure, he couldn't feel the air filling his lungs nor could he feel them constrict, he wasn't certain he's breathing, more less shouting and he didn't care. He just wants to find Sam, _God please let him be alright._

The first breath he feels leaves him as he takes in the insides of an almost empty room. Sam is in the middle of it, tied to a chair, wet and barefoot, covered in blood and bruises. Dean's legs almost give out as he marches through the dirty room and drop to his knees in front of his brother, he cups Sammy's face, something he's done so many times in similar or more tender occasions, and whispers, tone urgent and terrified.

"Sammy? Sam , God _please_ Sammy open your eyes" His thumbs wipe at already dry tears and when the gorgeous hazels open up to meet him, Dean hates himself more than he remembers ever doing.

Sam's eyes carry so much pain and sorrow and yet they're still disbelieving and joyous as if seeing his older brother is all he ever needs.

"Am I dead?" Sam asks, voice hoarse and tired, so, so tired, and as Dean shakes his head and kisses bruising cheeks he adds one more failure to his ever growing list.

Sam doesn't say anything as Dean inspects his injuries, still in shock and too exhausted to talk. Dean is _alive._ He's alive and he's here, and Sam can't move, he can't wrap himself around his brother like he wants to, can't taste his lips and count his heartbeats. He watches, helpless as his big brother drowns himself in guilt and self loathing. 

Dean takes Sam's state, blaming himself for every cut and blooming blues and purples. Sam's soles are covered with burn scars, Dean kisses as much of them as he can before Sam tries to pull him up. He kisses Sam's hands, meaningless apologies sitting on the tip of his tongue, trapped, scratching the insides of his throat. But he doesn't let them out, he doesn't deserve forgiveness.

''It's ok,'' Sam whispers ''Dean, it's gonna be alright''

Dean blinks away tears and hates himself just a bit more, Sam is comforting _him_ and it's so much like his Sammy, to be beautiful in ugly times, ever the strong and radiant soul.   
  
Dean gathers enough courage to look at his battered baby brother, and all he thinks of is that he should've hurt that bitch more. But they have to move, he needs to get them out of here. He's up and gathering  Sam into his arms, Sam's lack of protest another indication of his bad state.

Dean summons a strength he didn't know he possesses and walks out toward the impala, carrying Sam. His knees are killing him and his back would be sure to pay but hell if he cares. He let Sam down one time too many and he won't drop him, not this time. Not ever.

Sam clings to him and refuses to take the more comfortable backseat, favoring to lean against Dean as they drive away. He can't take them home yet. He needs to stop as soon as possible to look at Sam's injuries.

 Sam has rested his head over Dean's shoulder, soaking up the warmth, trying to reassure himself that he's not dreaming, that Dean is actually there, he searches for Dean's hand and threads their fingers, closing his eyes when his brother gives his hand a gentle squeeze. He doesn't want to sleep, if he slept, Dean might disappear, but the Impala's engine and leather mixed with Dean's sent and body heat lull him into a near haze and he surrenders to slumber, wishing his brother would still be here when he open his eyes.   

Dean feels Sam's weight drop and his breaths even, and he sighs in relief, Sam needs the rest, they both do. Dean can't rest now though, he needs to watch over Sam. He'll have time for sleep later because soon, oh very soon, he will kill everyone who dared touch Sammy and unlike that lucky bitch, they won't go fast.


End file.
